


all through the meadows

by notparticularly



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Sanctuary (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Hogwarts, Gen, Inter-House Unity, John has crippling panic attacks because I had one this afternoon and I felt like writing about it, John is almost as tall as the Fourth years, an excuse to write 11 yr old petulant Niko, everything is hogwarts au and nothing hurts, fuck u canon all my favs are diverse, no potters stealing the limelight
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-03-31
Updated: 2014-03-31
Packaged: 2018-01-17 15:42:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,304
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1393186
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notparticularly/pseuds/notparticularly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>School hadn't seemed such a foreign concept when they'd been running excitedly in and out of shops in Diagon Alley or packing their suitcases full of sweets, but now that he was here and the English countryside was whizzing past John couldn't quite quell the mounting panic in his stomach.</p>
            </blockquote>





	all through the meadows

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by a Twitter convo with [Ash](http://colsamanthacarter.tumblr.com/). Work title from RL Stevenson's From a Railway Carriage, chapter title from Seamus Heaney's translation of Beowulf. Many thanks to [Bethany](http://bottleofcasgrace.tumblr.com) for being my 10 minute beta stop before posting.

"I can see one, just up there! No, look, _there_. You're insufferable, I swear to Merlin! You know we'd probably find a seat slightly faster if you got your nose out of that bloody book and helped me _look_ , Helen."

John pushed through the crowd aboard the Hogwarts Express with an exasperated sigh, glancing beside him every now and then to make sure Helen was still by his side. Her parents had found her a muggle book - something about the scientific origins of muggle animals, boring stuff - to read for the first few weeks of school (with a promise to send more, of course) and she'd been engrossed in it ever since they'd left for the station.

Worrying at his lip, he peered over the heads of other first-years and saw that the compartment they were heading for was still free. At almost twelve, John's mum had told him that he would be one of the oldest in his year. She hadn't mentioned, however, that he'd also be one of the tallest. To be fair, he'd only ever had Helen to measure against, and to him she'd always been freakishly small. It had never occurred to John that _he_ was the irregular one. As it was, he towered over other children his age, and had caught some glances from parents which hadn't helped settle his unease. School hadn't seemed such a foreign concept when they'd been running excitedly in and out of shops in Diagon Alley or packing their suitcases, but now that he was here and the English countryside was whizzing past John couldn't quite quell the mounting panic in his stomach.

Perhaps it was the thought of _sharing_ , of being with hundreds of other kids just like them and being sorted into different houses and slowly losing the only friend he’d ever had. Because for as long as he could remember it had always been just the two of them. Running and hiding, laughing and crying, it had always been _together_ , and now he wasn’t even sure if Helen and he would share a single class.

"John, it's alright," Helen's voice echoed as though from a long distance away, and John noticed with an uncomfortable familiarity that his breath was coming in short, fast gulps and his heart was pounding like he'd just fought a hippogriff (not that he'd ever _actually_ fought a hippogriff, thank you very much). He looked around with wide eyes, trying to calm himself, ground himself, but nothing was familiar and there was darkness gathering in boiling clouds at the edge of his vision and-

Helen's cool hands - always cool, always soothing, her father said with more than a hint of pride that he could see he as a healer even at the age of two - clasped around his own and her voice was calm and steady and _grounding_.

( _Home_ , something inside him whispered) (John pushed it away, buried it down deep, down where it could not be found)

"We've been through this before, John. You're alright, _we're_ alright. Look at me, hm? Come on, sit down here, there we go. You're fine, it's alright John, it's alright," and, as though she’d cast a charm, he was back, his breathing ragged and sore in his thin chest, heart hammering at against his ribs like a trapped bird desperate to escape. He was sitting in a train compartment, and Helen was beside him, smiling encouragingly. He half smiled back, exhaling shakily. Then, he caught sight of the compartment's other occupant and a bright red blush crept up his cheeks. A smallish boy with a largeish nose was standing by the door, keeping the blind shut firmly against the still-chattering crowd outside. He had dark hair that curled slightly at the ends, and a tweed suit that looked a size or so too big. When he turned, extending a hand carefully towards John, his legs moved stiffly.

"My name's James," he said, grasping John's hand - still entwined with Helen's - between his own and shaking it fervently.

"James helped us find a seat," said Helen, "Made sure nobody saw. It was quite nice of him, actually."

The boy, James, nodded solemnly. "My dad gets like that sometimes, from when he was in the army, but I've found it's better when he's away from crowds and stuff so I thought it might be the same thing for you."

John grinned halfheartedly, trying not to be too embarrassed at the shame of being observed. "Good for me that I had the only two people who knew what to do nearby then, eh?"

Helen rolled her eyes and let go of his hands, satisfied that he was back to normal. She began, with a tone that was simultaneously businesslike and piqued with what his mother would call scientific interest, to introduce the two of them to their new acquaintance. John, as he was wont to do in these situations, tuned out. This attack had been particularly bad, worse than the few he'd had over the past summer, and he still felt a bit winded by the force of it. No amount of healers could determine the root cause of them, but John's mother did - he could see it in her eyes when she managed to calm him down. Helen knew, too, as did her parents, though John wasn't sure if he was comfortable with Sir Gregory knowing this particular weakness. Helen's father was a formidable man, and John had always been slightly terrified of him.

Everyone had been affected by the war in some way, but John sometimes felt like some people had gotten a much better deal from widespread magical genocide than he had. He still had dreams of that night, when Death Eaters had burst into their home and dragged his father from the room. He had hidden, like a good boy, behind the curtains as unforgivable curses rang out through the night. John still heard his mother's screams when he awoke in the middle of the night, still saw the flash of green light that killed his father when he closed his eyes.

Everyone had been affected by the war in some way, his mum said, everyone had a horror story. John just wished that his own hadn't made him so _weak_.

When John looked up next, Helen was showing James her new book and he was talking animatedly about dinosaurs and trilobites and Merlin knew what else. Helen was laughing and making excited additions, and John noticed that the margins were already filled with a scrawled mess of notes. James looked up at him, pushing his spectacles up the bridge of his large nose.

"What do you think, John?"

"I think you two are _definitely_ going to be Ravenclaws," he grinned mischievously, leaning down to look at the book with a furrowed brow, "and I also think you've got your notes mixed up - fairies are actually closer to fish than insects and, if you look closely, doxies are a completely distinct species!"

"Ah, thank you!" James exclaimed, neatly scoring out a line of measured, looping handwriting. John couldn't help but laugh as Helen pursed her lips - her handwriting was almost indecipherable, another reason why she'd make a perfect healer.

"It really is so incredibly interesting being able to match up all these wonderful creatures with the ones I already know, though it's quite hard remembering all the names,” James was saying, his eyes lit up with excitement.

John smiled at the boy and pointed out another link between muggle creatures and magical ones, Helen launched into a detailed explanation of how magical genes had helped evolution along in certain places in the tropics, and James took it all in with rapt attention.

And suddenly they were no longer Two, but Three.

 (And, strangely of all, John found he didn't mind)

**Author's Note:**

> Plans for the next chapter include Nigel getting into a fight and a nerve wracking Sorting! Stay tuned bros


End file.
